Through a Glass Darkly
by A Spot of Bother
Summary: No one gets through the Wasteland unscathed. One-shots following the Sole Survivor as she pursues her stolen son while trying to adjust to this strange new world she once called home.
1. All the new familiar places

(A/N): Trying to ease back into this whole writing thing. Not convinced this isn't awful, but we have to start somewhere. Spoilers for a game that's been out almost three years, because I'm a monster.

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Nora stared down at her plate, picking unconsciously at her cuticle as she studied the suspect pieces of meat. Her stomach growled, a reminder that she hadn't eaten since breakfast, but her mind kept replaying the memory of her own face, screaming as she banged against the cryo pod door, and the thought of reaching for her cutlery made her gorge rise.

She startled when Nick spoke from across the table. "I'll admit it's been a while, but I recall this whole 'eating' thing worked a lot better when you managed to get the food from the plate to your mouth." She glanced up to find the synth's golden eyes fixed on her. "You okay?"

She flashed him a tired smile. "Yeah, sorry. Just...going off on tangents. In my head."

"You have to eat something, Nora," he said gently.

"We're not talking about this," she said. "Not – now. I can't."

Nick studied her expression before he nodded and sat back in his chair. "All right. So – tangents. Care to elaborate?"

"Well," she said, picking up her fork and pushing a lump of meat across her plate, "let's start with the obvious. What exactly _is_ this? It's the wrong texture for brahmin and it doesn't smell like radstag, so..."

"If it's being served at the Third Rail, it's probably best not to ask."

"You're not helping my appetite," she muttered, giving the food one last poke before setting her fork down.

"Not sure there's much around here that will," Nick said. "I wouldn't know."

"Oh – I'm sorry, Nick. I keep forgetting."

"Not the angle I was going for, but still – that's an impressive feat, with a mug like mine."

Nora shook her head. "No, I mean – I think of you as a person. H-human." She faltered on the last word as her eyes met his, his irises glowing in the dim lighting of the bar. She saw him mark the fumble, rushed to smooth it over. "You're just – Nick. It's easy to forget the rest."

He offered her a wry smile. "I appreciate the thought."

She hesitated. "You...don't think of yourself that way?"

His gaze dropped to the metal skeleton of his right hand. "Hard to, when you look like this – when you've got memories of a life that's not yours hard-coded into your brain. Don't get me wrong," he said, glancing up to meet her gaze again. "I'll always be grateful the Institute didn't just wipe me before dumping me in the garbage, but everything I am today I owe to a man two hundred years dead."

She had the urge to reach across the table and lay her hand over his, but wasn't sure he'd appreciate the gesture. "How'd you do it, Nick?" she asked instead. "How'd you wake up like that and just...keep going?"

He looked at her thoughtfully, considering. "You're not gonna like the answer."

She propped her chin in her hand. "Try me."

"Time," he said. "A lot of it. Coupled with the kindness of strangers." He watched her expression dim before he sighed. "Aw hell, sweetheart, I wish I could tell you you'll wake up one morning and this brave new world of ours will suddenly make sense, but I make it a point never to lie to a lady."

"I appreciate the honesty, I suppose," she said, smiling thinly.

Nick shifted in his seat before he cleared his throat. "That's a bad habit for a lawyer to have," he said, nodding at where she was still picking at her cuticle. "I imagine that'd be one heck of a tell in the courtroom."

Nora stared at him blankly before the statement clicked into place in her mind. "Oh, no, I – didn't practice as a criminal attorney." She forced her hands to stillness before folding them in her lap. "I specialized in commercial law. Businesses, corporations – that sort of thing. Not much need for that these days."

"There will be, someday," Nick said, gaze tracking something behind her. "But we were talking about your tangents, before we got off onto one of our own."

She squeezed out a laugh. "I don't even remember. But I'm pretty sure it boiled down to this looks disgusting and there's no way I'm eating it." She pushed the plate to one side, the lip rasping against the table's peeling surface.

"That's too bad," Nick said, refocusing his attention on her. "Not only are you gonna break poor Charlie's heart –" She bit back a grin, glancing over at the robot hovering behind the bar. "– but a solid chunk of your funds just walked out the door. Be a shame to waste what's left."

Nora's features tugged into a frown before she glanced over her shoulder in time to catch the back of a familiar duster disappearing up the stairs. She turned back to the detective with a sigh. "You're still upset about that?" He only looked at her. "You vouched for him!" she said defensively.

"I vouched for his reputation," Nick corrected. "From what I hear, the kid can pick the helmet off one of our giant green friends from three hundred yards away. He's a damn fine gun to have at your back."

"But?" Nora prompted, pursing her lips.

"But what happens when the contract runs out? Shifting loyalties are part of a merc's job description. Not to mention it appeared our young friend's in some sort of trouble with the Gunners, and they're not a group you want to be on the wrong side of."

She didn't have any rebuttals, and they both knew it. She cut her gaze to the side, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I can't go up against the Institute on my own, Nick," she said, voice small.

His expression gentled. "No one was asking you to." When she wouldn't meet his eyes, he sighed and adjusted the angle of his hat with his thumb. "Piper's not gonna like this," he muttered.

"Piper has a little sister to look after," she shot back, glaring at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. "If she got hurt because she was out here trying to help me –" Her throat closed up, and she had to take several deep breaths before she could continue. "I can't – I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

The crooning of the bar's singer pooled in the silence between them.

"All right, Nora," Nick said, relenting with a sigh. "I'm not trying to make your life any harder than it already is. If you're set on this, then that's how we'll play it. I'll think of something to tell Piper, and you – go do what you have to do."

Nora bit her lip as she fought down a sudden, unexpected surge of tears. "You're too damn decent for your own good, you know that, Nick?" she said, voice wavering.

He smiled. "Don't go sharing it around – I've got a reputation to maintain."

She managed a laugh as she brushed the moisture out of her eyes, blinking rapidly and staring at the ceiling until she'd regained her composure.

"Thank you," she said, reaching over and taking his hand in hers. "For everything. I'll come find you before I'm ready to head out into the Glowing Sea."

He gave her fingers a squeeze. "I'll look forward to it."

"Never let it be said I don't know how to show a fella a good time," she said with a rueful grin.

"It'll certainly be unforgettable," Nick agreed. He canted his head toward the stairs. "You ready to get out of here?"

She shot a last glance at the mess congealing on her plate before she fixed him with a crooked smile. "Lead the way."


	2. Not quite dinner by candlelight

(A/N): Dear anon reviewer (assuming you swing back 'round this way): thank you for the kind words.

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MacCready scraped the last of the slightly burnt meat out of the pot and onto the waiting plate, shooting a glance at his employer. The dark-haired woman was seated with her back against the far wall, a thick book open in her lap and several others spread around her. Her brow was furrowed, but he wasn't sure if it was concentration or frustration carving the groove between her eyes. Her lips would occasionally move silently, pantomiming along with whatever it was she was reading.

"Hey, boss." She didn't react, apparently too engrossed in her studies. "Boss. Hey." When she still didn't look up he gave a short, sharp whistle that earned him an annoyed glare. "Hey – dinner's ready."

Her gaze flicked from his face to the food he was holding out before she grumbled something under her breath and marked her place in the heavy tome. She pushed herself up and away from the wall, moving to join him at the small cooking fire and taking the plate from his hand.

"What is that?" she asked, eyeing the food dubiously.

"Squirrel." He picked up his own plate and fork.

"I haven't seen a single squirrel since I left the Vault," she said, regarding the meal with outright suspicion.

"Guess you haven't been looking hard enough," he rejoined easily. He ignored the squinty-eyed look she fixed him with, dragging the rucksack containing their water between them and flicking it open. "Pick your poison." Not appearing the least bit mollified, she pulled out a half-empty canteen and unscrewed the lid before taking a long pull. "Whoa, go easy," he protested.

The look she shot him was full of frustration. "Do you know what I miss?" she said sourly as she passed the canteen over. She didn't wait for a response. "Being full. I mean, really full. Not going to bed thirsty because I have to ration my water to make it last until the next settlement." She stabbed her fork into a piece of meat. "Food I could identify," she muttered, half to herself.

He dangled the canteen from one hand, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "So what you're saying is the Commonwealth as-is is something of a let-down."

Her expression was nonplussed. "There were super mutants holed up in the Boston Public Library," she said flatly. "Which – how does that even happen? All that knowledge and history – information that could've been used to rebuild – and people just let it be overrun." She rubbed at her forehead. "I just – I don't understand."

"I'll tell you what I don't understand," he said, gesturing with his fork at the books. "Why we risked life and several limbs for some light reading material. No offense, but when most people are desperate enough to raid a super mutant lair, they're looking for something a little more substantial than self-improvement."

"I need to learn what I can about mechanical engineering." She grimaced, still tracing a finger in slow circles above her eyebrow. "Which I'm sure is a completely achievable goal with just a handful of books – it's not like it used to require a four-year degree or anything."

"Uh-huh. And this suicidal interest in engineering stems from…?"

She hesitated, suddenly intensely interested in the contents of her plate. "I have to head into the Glowing Sea."

MacCready choked on the bite he'd been in the middle of swallowing. He waved her off when she moved to help him, pounding his fist against his chest until the blockage cleared. When the coughing fit finally subsided, he snatched off his hat, sweeping a hand through his hair in agitation. "Boss. Listen," he said, fitting the hat back on his head and tugging the brim low over his eyes. "I know I said 'you lead, I'll follow,' but I feel like this is something that should've come up while we were still hashing out the details."

"I don't expect you to come with me," she said quietly. He glanced over to find her hunched over her plate, picking listlessly at her food.

The knot that had been forming between his shoulders relaxed. "Okay. I'm not gonna argue with any decision that involves me _not_ exposing myself to lethal amounts of radiation." He rubbed the back of his neck as he studied her. "So, if you're heading into the Glowing Sea – without me –" She glanced at him with a small smile. "– and you need to learn..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing. "Power armor? That's pretty ambitious, boss."

"So was assaulting a nest of super mutants," she pointed out. "Besides, I'm not looking to build a set from scratch."

He stared at her, but she didn't elaborate. "So, we're just not unpacking that statement?"

She swept a thumb along her lip, wiping away imaginary crumbs. "Nope."

"Jesus – a full suit of power armor. You're just fu-" He bit his tongue, hoped she wouldn't comment on it. "Freaking full of surprises."

She barked out a strange, hollow laugh. "Am I? I guess that's good. Most days I feel like I'm barely hanging on."

He couldn't think of any kind of reply to that, and she didn't seem to have anything more to say; they finished their respective meals in silence.

The fire had almost burned itself out by the time MacCready set his plate aside. He took the last of the burning tinder and used it to light their lantern, adjusting the flame until the dim glow was too weak to leak through the shuttered windows. He half-expected her to complain, but she only lugged the book she'd been reading across the room and laid it open on the floor next to the flickering light.

Once he was certain she was settled, he reached for his rifle. It was the work of a few seconds to wipe down the stock and the barrel and ensure the slide wasn't sticking – nothing close to a proper cleaning, but the best he could do for the moment. He set the gun next to him and turned his attention to his ammo stores. He counted the cartridges out one by one, readying spare clips before squirreling them away, and stashed the ammunition that didn't fit his weapon in the pouch strapped to his thigh.

She was watching him; when he glanced up he caught her gaze. "What is it?" he said, slightly unnerved at the intensity of her stare. "Do I have something on my face?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, it's – it's nothing. Just..." She gestured vaguely in his direction. "You were so precise in your movements. It reminds me of something, but I can't put my finger on what."

He raised an eyebrow. "O-kay..."

She rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the book. "Just forget it."

"Can do." He heard her scoff, but she didn't look up again, not even when he stood and slung his rifle over his shoulder.

He exited the room, descending to the first floor and making a slow circuit of the house, ensuring the make-shift barricades they'd erected were still solid. He lingered next to a shuttered window, leaning against the wall while he snuck a quick cigarette, head tilted to try and catch any sound of movement from the street. When he was satisfied everything was calm enough, he pitched the butt aside and headed back up the stairs.

He found her still frowning down at the book, chin propped in one hand while the other traced the tiny lines of text. He folded himself against the wall next to the doorway, settling his rifle across his lap. "You should think about getting some shut-eye. We need to be ready to move tomorrow." She didn't respond, finger still tracking across smudged ink. "All right," he said. "Good talk." She made a distracted sound, but didn't lift her eyes from the page. "Yep, looove these one-sided conversations."

"What?" She finally glanced up at him, gaze unfocused.

He sighed. "Nothing."

"Mm."

Her eyes dropped back to the book. He watched the shadows the lantern cast across her face for another few seconds before he gave a mental shrug and tugged the brim of his hat down over his eyes.

"Just so you know," she said, not looking up, "I don't care if you smoke."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Got it, boss."

She turned another page, and the soft hiss of the lantern filled the silence.


End file.
